


Misdirection

by lilithiumwords



Series: Where Forever We Remain [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Bilbo Is Awesome, Communication Failure, Gandalf is a Troll, Introspection, Invasion of Privacy, M/M, Overprotective Thorin, Thorin POV, Thorin is a Bean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2507765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/pseuds/lilithiumwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin had always known who he was and what he had done. He never expected Bilbo to fall for him anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misdirection

**Author's Note:**

> Short introspective piece, for Thorin's POV in this slowly growing monstrosity. One more part after this.

"Rogue Orc bands sighted in Rohan, more details to be released this evening..."

Thorin scowled at the television, irritated that even hundreds of years later, those beasts were still crawling about with foul intent. The Shire and Ered Luin were well protected, but the farther out anybody traveled, the more likely the creatures would attack.

Thankfully they were too stupid to manage the technology of the age, now behaving more like pirates with bad attitudes, but they were no less dangerous.

Thorin wished, for the thousandth time, for Orcrist. The sword was hidden away in Erebor, along with other priceless Dwarf treasures that Thorin's family had safeguarded for eons. There was no reason to carry around a sword these days; crime was rare compared to the old days, and those who did attack others were quickly handled by the defenses Thorin's family had produced through Ered Luin Innovations.

His lap sighed when Thorin made to grab the remote, and Thorin reached down without looking to soothe Bilbo by running his fingers over his hair, his burglar snoozing and heavy on Thorin's legs. Not that Thorin ever minded if Bilbo fell asleep on him. After what his burglar had suffered in the past, every moment of peace was precious.

Though Bilbo did not know that. Thorin had done very well to keep their past a secret from him.

Four years of domestic bliss with Bilbo, and Thorin still could not believe he existed sometimes. It had taken only a few months before they had decided to move in together after meeting again, and now Bag-End was their shared home, with occasional visits by the neighbors, Holman Greenhand, Dís, the boys, and a number of other untoward visitors that had Thorin grumbling every time there was a knock at the door.

Somehow, with all of their little arguments and stubborn personalities, Thorin and Bilbo lived together peacefully. They fit easily into each other's lives, seamless and comfortable, with nary a care for the judgmental looks from Bilbo's neighbors whenever they saw Thorin brooding around the front gate. Thorin made Bilbo happy, and the Hobbit proclaimed this quite often to anyone who would listen.

Dís called them sickening. Fíli still wouldn't look them in the eye. Kíli was ecstatic.

Listening to the news bothered Thorin. He ran his fingers through Bilbo's curls, changing the channel to an old movie that, were Bilbo not exhausted from staying up all night grading, he would delight in criticizing. It was one of their favorite pastimes.

The movie relaxed him. Having Bilbo nearby was good for Thorin's temper, though they certainly fought with regularity, hardly a change from their old lives together. At least Bilbo was (still) quick to forgive him, and Thorin could never, ever feel angry at Bilbo for long. He had a thousand and one reasons to atone to Bilbo, and the whole list of them began with the quest to reclaim Erebor, four Ages ago.

Thorin remembered. Though the gold-madness had blurred many of his memories, such as names and dates, he remembered his company. He remembered Bilbo. He remembered Smaug and the deaths of his people. He remembered his own death, and he remembered casting Bilbo aside in favor of a war that would, for a time, destroy the world.

He had been so _foolish_. Bilbo had begged him, at the end, to put aside his desire for war and trust in the goodness of people; but Thorin had rejected him in the blackest rage he had ever endured. When Bilbo had stolen the Arkenstone...

Such a fool. Were Bilbo to remember anything, Thorin was sure that the gentle peace of today would shatter irreparably. He remembered Bilbo's sorrow, his own desperation in those last moments of battle, the high shriek of a Hobbit stolen by Azog's monstrous son. What had happened to Bilbo after, Thorin could not know, but he had no doubt it had been terrible. If he could help it, he would never force Bilbo to remember that horror.

Thorin hated to remember those moments. They belonged to an Age long buried in history. His people were prosperous, his family safe, and his friends were happy, even though Thorin had destroyed everything before. Perhaps the greatest gift Thorin did not deserve in this life was Bilbo himself, who for all of his faults and anger and stubbornness, _loved_ him. As he had before. Thorin still did not believe that the Bilbo of this day and age was real, sometimes. He expected to wake from a dream.

In a few weeks Thorin would travel to Erebor alone to check the mountain's security and install some updates into the mainframe. Everyone thought that Erebor was deserted and ravaged, and Thorin's family had certainly done their best to maintain that rumor. Gandalf had played his part in its protection as well, with spells that safeguarded the mountain, along with the destruction of every piece of literature that named Thorin and his Company.

He had Thorin's gratitude for that, at least. His friends were _safe_. He and his Company would never be hunted or assaulted by those who blamed them for the Fourth Age. Some people had taken the reincarnation belief too far and began to blame people for their past actions in their old lives. Thorin still had nightmares about what might happen if anyone ever found out about his Company and Bilbo.

Bilbo mumbled against his leg, a bit of drool seeping into Thorin's slacks, and he smiled down at his burglar, stroking his thick hair back from his face. Carefully he wiped the drool away; Bilbo would be horrified if he realized it was there.

For all that Gandalf infuriated him at every turn, no matter that the wizard consistently claimed they were "friends," he would forever be grateful for Gandalf leading him to Bilbo.

Four years ago, Thorin had received a frustratingly short email from "Mithrandir," inviting him to the biggest scholar conference in the land. Thorin had not wanted to go; he had zero interest in going anywhere near Gandalf, who must have lost his mind if he thought Thorin didn't recognize the name the Elves used for him. As if Thorin wasn't fully aware of the many conversations and meetings Gandalf had held with each of his ancestors through the ages.

But he had gone, anyway, after a shouting match with Balin, Dís, and Frerin of all people. They all had told him he was being stubborn. Thorin still snubbed them on occasion for the comment.

But every agonizing second spent listening to Gandalf drone on about reincarnation had been worth it, for sitting behind Thorin in the same lecture hall was Bilbo himself.

Thorin had remembered him well. Not his full name nor where he had lived, much to his angry embarrassment later on, but he had remembered Bilbo's enjoyment of tea, his wide eyes which sent scathing looks Thorin's way every time he made a grumpy comment, his laughter in the evening hours. The Elves had some ridiculous name for the memories, but all that mattered to Thorin was that his burglar was alive. Safe. Protected. Happy.

He had not expected Bilbo to flirt outrageously with him. Not after the way Thorin had treated him before. Nor had he anticipated the sex.

Mahal, the _sex_ \-- he'd had no idea Bilbo was so versatile and wicked. Some of the things they had done together still shocked him.

And then, foolishly, he had lost Bilbo. They had been comfortable and content that morning, exchanging kisses and flirting over breakfast, and Thorin had believed that it would last. That he could take Bilbo home and keep him forever. Yet Bilbo had vanished seemingly into thin air, much like he once did in the past. For a week Thorin had stormed around Gondor, desperate to find his burglar with no results. He never saw Bilbo's friend again, either, and he went home wounded and miserable.

Finding Kíli's essay had been a stroke of luck. He had not recognized Bilbo's name immediately, but "Professor Baggins" had niggled at his thoughts, making him wonder if he had heard the name at the symposium. At the same time, he had been furious for his nephew's grade.

Walking into that office, decorated heavily with books and plants and smelling of _Bilbo_ , had felt like coming home.

Thorin would forever be pleased at the outcome of that meeting. Bilbo Baggins, temperamental and whiny as he was -- as he always had been -- was his, for better or for worse. Thorin would never, ever let him out of his sight again.

Bored with the movie but unwilling to disturb Bilbo, Thorin chose to open his slim laptop, perching on the couch and carefully typing over Bilbo's head. He loaded his email client while checking the local news, and he noticed a new email from Gandalf.

"Ugh," Thorin grunted under his breath. He still had not forgiven Gandalf for his part in the fiasco four years ago.

He had emailed Gandalf nearly every day through the summer, begging for news on Bilbo, as he knew that Gandalf had spoken to him that day. Bilbo had left Gandalf's card in Thorin's room, along with a couple other items, and it had made sense at the time that with Bilbo's interest in the wizard's book that he might have given Gandalf his number.

But Gandalf had refused to share it with him.

_If the fine young gentleman who was quite enamored with you at the symposium did not share his contact details with you, then I shall not break his confidence just so you can bother him unnecessarily. I shall be very cross with you if you cause Bilbo any sort of stress, Thorin Oakenshield._

Thorin had not spoken to him for two months after that, furious and unable to defend himself. How could he tell Gandalf that Bilbo had simply disappeared with no explanation after a full night of nonstop sex? That he had worried Bilbo had been forced away from him, or possibly worse, that Bilbo had _remembered_ and had rejected him?

But Gandalf told him that Bilbo was safe, even if he would not tell Thorin where he was or how to reach him. It was almost enough.

Then starting in September, only a month before Kíli's fateful essay was left on the kitchen table, Gandalf began to send him cryptic and increasingly maddening messages about how nice the Shire was this time of year and wouldn't Thorin like to join him for a guest lecture at the university that Fíli and Kíli attended?

But Thorin, stubborn and still upset at Gandalf, had refused.

When Gandalf sent him a picture of Bilbo standing in a small garden full of vegetables, with a short note about how lovely the weather was, Thorin still had not understood that Bilbo was in the _Shire_ and ended up breaking his phone.

Then the essay had happened. Then Bilbo was his again, still oblivious to their first lives, but Thorin could protect him by his side. If Bilbo never remembered that terrible quest, Thorin could die happy. He had Bilbo as he was now, and that was enough.

As if sensing that Thorin could not conveniently toss the laptop out the window for fear of waking Bilbo, Gandalf sent him a message with the simple chat application built into the program. Thorin scowled; he had set himself to invisible! Trust the wizard to see through everything as usual.

_**Gandalf** : Thorin, is Bilbo awake? I should like to speak to him._

Thorin narrowed his gaze at the screen and jabbed his fingers at the keys, trying to be quiet at the same time. 

_**Thorin** : No. Leave me alone._

_**Gandalf** : Don't be like that, my dear boy. Are you certain he is not available? I have an important topic to discuss with him, and he has not answered my messages._

_**Thorin** : He's busy._

_**Gandalf** : Well, I'll have to call him later. Now, are you traveling to Erebor soon? It will be Durin's Day in two weeks. Train tickets are limited, you know._

_**Thorin** : None of your business._

_**Gandalf** : I should like to join you when you go. Have you invited Bilbo? He would enjoy the mountain for its history, if you catch my meaning._

_**Thorin** : Is that a threat? Because I know where Orcrist is, wizard, and I'm ready and willing to stab you with it. Leave Bilbo alone. Fuck you._

He closed the laptop with a scowl and tossed it aside, resting his hands on Bilbo's head and side, breathing deeply through his nose. Dealing with Gandalf always left him angry and brooding.

"Why do you want to stab Gandalf?" Bilbo murmured sleepily, shifting under his hands, and Thorin froze.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Thorin replied after a moment, his voice low as he watched Bilbo warily. Bilbo had said _Gandalf_.

"I don't mind," Bilbo said, muzzy and thick, as he turned onto his back to smile at Thorin. He pressed one sleep-warm hand to Thorin's face, which Thorin turned to kiss. Bilbo grinned, his gaze affectionate as he watched Thorin nose at his fingers.

"Who's Gandalf, then? You're usually not this grumpy," Bilbo asked, cheeky, and Thorin tweaked his ear, enjoying the resulting yelp and relaxing. Bilbo was only asking after seeing the screen.

"Just an old geezer stalking me through social media," Thorin sighed. "What do you want for dinner? Your neighbor Holman dropped off a small supply of squash." By 'small' he meant 'enough to feed a small army.' Which was standard for Hobbits and Dwarves, anyway.

"Oh, how about a tasty stew? I still have tomatoes from farmer Tom," Bilbo beamed.

"That sounds fine. We can use that sausage I bought on Tuesday."

Bilbo rolled his eyes, forever exasperated with Thorin's insistence upon having meat in every one of their meals. "I have plenty of vegetables, Thorin --"

"Hm," Thorin replied thoughtfully, kissing each of Bilbo's fingers. "No."

"Heathen," Bilbo muttered, then squeaked when Thorin bit his thumb. "Unfair! I can't get up, and you're bullying me," he sulked, making no move to escape Thorin's lap, even shuffling closer.

"Don't whine at me."

"Don't bite me, you clot-headed --"

Their spat, typical for their relationship and usually followed by sex of some sort, was interrupted by Bilbo's phone trilling in the other room.

"Oh dear!" Bilbo stood off the couch quickly and fled to the bedroom, where Thorin heard him answer a moment later, "Oh, hello, Mithrandir! What? What do you mean, am I going to Ereb--"

Thorin leapt up, crossing the house in a few seconds and grabbing Bilbo's phone from him. "We're not buying," he barked into the device and hung up, ignoring Bilbo's scandalized expression.

"Thorin! That was a friend of mine! And yours too! How could you --"

"He's full of shit. Ignore his calls."

The phone rang again. Bilbo grabbed at it, but Thorin checked the ID and hung up immediately. Then he heard his own phone ring, and he met Bilbo's gaze.

"Don't you dare," Bilbo hissed, but Thorin was already running for the office.

Bilbo was faster, though. He skidded around the corner and dove into the office, shoving the door shut in Thorin's face.

"BILBO! Don't you dare answer that, I'm not speaking to him and he's only trying to get you in trouble! Bilbo! Put down the phone! He's just going on about bullshit, he's no friend of mine and you should tell him to fuck himself with his goddamn staff --"

Bilbo opened the door then, staring at Thorin with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. "Of course he's here, Mithrandir. Or should I call you Gandalf now, too? No, Thorin's giving me a dirty look, and -- _Thorin!_ " he snapped, ducking under Thorin's grab for the phone and taking a few hurried steps away.

"No, Thorin hasn't told me about his plans, though I already saw the ticket. You'd think he would know better than to leave his tablet out when I'm bored and have used up all my lives on my phone games." 

Thorin froze briefly at Bilbo's words, horrified, then approached him, raising his hands as if to take the phone. Bilbo ducked into the kitchen and skirted around the counter, eyeing Thorin as he followed, desperate to get the phone away from him but not daring to upset Bilbo further. "Mmhmm. Well, I haven't bought a ticket yet, but I was considering it. Though I don't suppose it's really any of your business, is it? Since Thorin already told you he wasn't going to meet you there. Yes, I saw that email."

Thorin stopped suddenly, staring at Bilbo as he smiled, a slow, devilish look that made Thorin want to turn and run the other way. "If you made this call to manipulate me into butting into a family-only trip my boyfriend takes every year, then I'll have you know, good friend, his sister did the job for you. I was going to talk to Thorin about it later, without certain old men poking their crooked noses into our personal affairs. Now, is that all you were calling about?"

Bilbo fiddled with one of the coasters sitting on the counter, picking it up and flipping it over as Gandalf went on at length. "We call it 'nosy' for a reason, old friend. Mmm. I'd love to meet you for tea sometime. Not until after Thorin's trip, mind. I'll call you. Mmhmm. Yes, of course. Thanks. Bye now," he finished, tapping at the screen and ignoring Thorin completely for nearly a full minute.

"There, I've got the ticket ready to order. Will we be using your card or mine?" Bilbo asked, looking up at Thorin with an innocent look that Thorin did not believe for a second. He was seething and terrified in the same moment; Bilbo _could not_ go to Erebor. He snatched the phone from Bilbo's hands, ignoring his sharp scolding, and glowered at him.

"My sister?" was all he dared to ask in the face of Bilbo's answering scowl.

"Yes, your sister," Bilbo huffed, tugging at Thorin's arm. "She told me about it ages ago. I'd wanted to ask you on my own time, since you always get grumpy when anyone brings up Erebor, but looks like Mithrandir forced my hand. Did you know he heard you when you told him to fuck himself with his staff?"

"Good," Thorin snarled, quickly deleting the details on the phone. "He's a menace, and no, I don't want you to go with me."

Bilbo stepped back, his eyes wide and hurt, and immediately Thorin felt horrible, but he would not lie to Bilbo any more than he had to. Thorin stepped back and pinched at his nose, breathing in deeply to calm himself.

"I don't appreciate that you went through my emails," he finally growled. "Those are private."

Bilbo flushed, his gaze dropping to the counter top. "I saw it by accident, really. It was when we were waiting on that order you made online, when it was late and you were going to call and complain. You had me pull up the confirmation email, and I saw the Gandalf ones and... I'm sorry. I couldn't help it, since Dís had told me about the trip already and you hardly ever mention Erebor. That was horrible of me."

He remembered that day. He hadn't thought anything of the emails, believing he had deleted them, but maybe he hadn't. Abruptly tired, Thorin dropped his hand and set his phone down, frowning at the screen. "Fine. I'm sorry for snapping at you. I didn't mean it like that." He heard Bilbo's small inhalation and closed his eyes. "I want you to be with me everywhere I go. But Erebor is a dangerous place. You'll get hurt, and I'm not willing to risk that."

Thorin lifted his head, as Bilbo crossed his arms and scowled at him. "Don't you think that's something for me to decide for myself?"

"I'm just trying to protect you --" Thorin started, but Bilbo cut him off, and what he said sent a spike of sharp fear into Thorin's heart, cracking it in half.

"I'm not ignorant. I know we shared a life together before, and I'm equally certain it has something to do with Erebor." He smiled humorlessly, while Thorin tried to pick up the pieces of his heart. "If going there gives me some recollection of the past, then that's my decision, not yours. You can't protect me forever, Thorin."

Thorin swallowed against his suddenly dry throat, fear gripping his thoughts as he stared at Bilbo. "But if you remember --" he broke off, looking away and closing his eyes tightly.

Soft hands took his wrists in hand, sliding down to press between his fingers until his fists unclenched. Then Bilbo reached up to cup his face, stepping between Thorin and the counter and leaning up to kiss him softly.

"You're a massive clot-head, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo told him solemnly. "You could have told me forever ago that you remembered something of our past. Whatever happened, however horrible you think it was, it means nothing now. We're here _now._ I'm not going to hate you no matter what I remember of that time. How can I, when I trust you so much despite not knowing? My instincts tell me you will _always_ protect me, and I _trust_ you. Can't you trust me, too?"

Thorin forced his eyes open, looking down into Bilbo's face for a long moment. His resolve crumbled; and he wrapped his arms around Bilbo's small body and pulled him close, turning his face into Bilbo's curls. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I know," Bilbo replied, smiling against his neck. "I forgave you forever ago."

Bilbo's words soothed something in Thorin that had ached for four Ages, and he turned his head to kiss Bilbo deeply. After a moment he pulled away, scowling down at his phone, and muttering in a sulky tone, "You can put it on my card."

"Thank you," Bilbo said, beaming, and he stole Thorin's phone to enter the information again. "Hey! I had already put all this in," he whined, and Thorin snorted into his neck.

"Don't whine," he murmured, biting at Bilbo's ear, just to make him shiver.

"Don't bite me," Bilbo retorted, but he stayed comfortably pressed against Thorin as he tapped away. Thorin watched over his shoulder, anxious in a way he could not express, but he was comforted by Bilbo's presence and his resolve that he would not leave Thorin.

He chose to trust Bilbo, as he had not done before, many eons ago. Bilbo deserved that much from him.


End file.
